Can I die now?
by TheCatInTheShadows
Summary: Short story when John and Sherlock are in deep trouble. No actual plot, just whump and heavy bromance. No slash.
1. Lestrade

Lestrade was walking franticly back and fort his office, eying his phone, waiting it to ring.

Donovan sit, but her eyes never left the phone either.

"Its take too long." Lestrade murmured and Donovan only nodded.

When the phone finally rang, Lestrade stopped and Donovan jumped up. His hand was shaking when he picked up the phone and answered.

"Lestrade."

"I think it may bee too late to them." Familiar voice, which usually was calm and steady, was now sorrowful and full of regrets.

"Can't you do anything?!" Lestrade yelled, fully knowing that it wasn't doing any good.

"I already send the men to pick them up. But…"

"Too late." Lestrade's legs almost betrayed him and he sat. He watched through his office's class wall's how Donovan ordered around. "My fault. This whole mess is my fault."

Mycroft didn't said anything, he couldn't.

"I have to go." Lestrade rose, pulling himself out of his misery. He has to find them. He has to be there even if they…

He couldn't think about it.

"I'll be there too. I send the address to you already."

"Thanks, and… I'm sorry."

"Don't be. They know what they were doing." And Mycroft shut the call.

And Lestrade run.


	2. Sherlock

_Cold._

He couldn't think anything else than that he was cold.

Too cold.

He was wet and there was snow everywhere.

And he was tired, so tired that he couldn't think properly. He used his hands to drag himself forward. There was tormenting pain on his leg and he could use it.

_What happened?_

Then he heard something. Some distant voices, but they got nearer.

Someone was yelling, calling someone.

"Sherlock!"

_It's me._

"Here." But his voice was barely a whisper. But someone had noticed him.

"There!"

Men running. Sherlock stopped and his head fell, his forehead touching the cold ground.

Tired.

So damn tired.

"Sherlock!"

He lifted his gaze up and saw someone running toward him.

He knew this man.

"Le… Lest…de…" His teeth hit together. He was shaking all over.

"We got you. We got you. You are safe now. My god…"

Sherlock felt how he was lifted up; there was more men, more lights. Something warm around him.

"Has anyone seen him yet? Go to the riverbank! Sherlock, Sherlock, please, focus. Where is he? Was he with you?"

"W…who?"

"John, was he with you?"

"John?" Sherlock asked and looked Lestrade's worried face.

"You went together. Did you get separated? Or was he with you in river? Sherlock, where is John?"

_John?_

"John… Who is John?"


	3. John

**Thanks everyone.**

* * *

It hurt.

Everything hurt.

But he was alive. He was still alive but he knew that he wouldn't be long, he was near of end.

_Sherlock, I hope you made it._

He dragged himself against the wall, leaning on it. In the darkness he couldn't see much, but he could feel the tacky blood. Hole in his side. Broken arm, broken leg, broken fingers. Blood loss was heavy. He was dizzy and he wanted to just sleep.

_Sherlock._

He couldn't think straight.

He couldn't feel the coldness of the ground.

Sherlock was only thing what he could think. Hope that he had survived. He smiled but there were tears in his eyes. He knew that even if Sherlock would make it, he didn't, there was no time left to him. He closed his eyes.

"_I promise John, we'll be home soon."_

"_Don't make promises what you can't keep Sherlock."_

Everything had gone wrong after that. He could still hear Sherlock screaming his name. And he had left behind, dying. Or in Sherlock's case, thinking, that John was already dead.

Once more he opened his eyes, looking the place where he was going to die. The moon sailed through the clouds, illuminating the abandoned buildings what were buried in the snow.

_Beautiful. _

Dying. Once he had been afraid of it. He had been too close. This time he was just accepting it. He had given new opportunity and he had used it to its end. Now was just time to let go.

"Sorry Sherlock, see you later." He muttered and closed his eyes from the darkness. He drifted in sleep from which he knew he would never woke up.


	4. dream

_They were holding him down, his face against the ground that he couldn't see John. What he had seen before he was slammed on the ground, had made him head and stomach spinning. The gun aimed John's head._

"_Leave him alone!" He tried to desperately get himself free but they just started to drag him away. "John!"_

"_Sherlock…" John's voice was quiet and resigned and Sherlock hated to hear it. He tried to look but someone hit him on the face._

"_John, don't give up! Don't…" Sherlock tried again but then he heard it._

_Pang_

"_John? John?!" Sherlock started to scream and the last thing he saw before he was dragged out of the room was John lying on the ground unmoving. _

"_JOHN!"_

"John?" Sherlock whispered waking up. What he could see was white clinical walls and heart monitor peeping beside of the bed. He was in hospital. He had made it through. He had made it.

John didn't.

He wanted to delete it all.

He just wanted to forget it all.

All about John.

But he couldn't.

The memories billowed over him and he was angry that he couldn't control it all. There was something wet in his eyes but when he tried to raise his hand he notice that he was restrained. Of course, knowing his medical history, Sherlock smiled a bit and sighed.

_Why I didn't die with John?_


	5. Mycroft

"_He's awake."_

"Does he remember?" Mycroft asked.

"_I don't know, he's refusing to talk."_

Sherlock, Mycroft sighed.

"_I don't know if it is just a concussion or if he wanted to_…" Lestrade voice died down.

"If John died, then he wants to delete it all. He's not good with emotions. But I think he can't delete John. Ever." Mycroft just knew it.

In the other side of the phone line was quiet.

"_Have you found him yet?"_

"No."

"_Can he be alive?"_

"If he is, it's a miracle." Mycroft eyed the snow buried scene and the lights of the men who were looking John. Suddenly his radio came alive.

"WE FOUND HIM!"

"Where?" Mycroft asked and followed the instructions running through the frozen land. When he finally arrived the paramedic was already doing his job, but it seemed hopeless.

"_Mycroft? Mycroft!"_ Lestrade's voice passed his consciousness and Mycroft raised the phone.

"Found him."

He watched the blood on the snow.

_There is too much._

He closed the phone.

He couldn't see John properly; the soldiers and paramedic blocked the view. He wasn't sure that he even wanted to see, but he stepped closer.

Paramedic was working; they tried to warm the cold body to found the pulse.

"Come on John." Paramedic whispered desperately, like he knew John. Maybe he knew, Mycroft realized. Some of these men were fought in Afghanistan.

"You are fighter John, you don't give up." The medic whispered and then suddenly he smiled. He grabbed something on his pocket and placed it against John's mouth. A small mirror.

And Mycroft could see it.

Slowly on the surface of the mirror formed small amount of steam when John exhaled.

John was alive.

* * *

**Yes, there are mistakes, and right now I'm too lazy to correct them all. Like or not.**

**But thanks everyone :)**


	6. Harry

When Harriet stepped inside the room, she felt how her heart sunk.

_Again._

Sherlock was sitting in the wheelchair beside John's bed, watching his friend breathing. Harriet walked closer. So many tubes and wires and peeping machines. Sherlock glanced up and nodded his greeting to John's sister.

"Harry."

"Sherlock." Harriet walked other side of the bed watching his little brother.

It was miracle.

Everyone said that.

Harriet touched lightly John's cheek. How cold it was. John wasn't out of the woods yet.

She couldn't say that it was miracle.

Not yet.

"Third time." Harriet whispered. "First in Afghanistan, when they called. Then, after that terrible accident when Mary died. And now… I can't do this anymore. The doctors said that I should to prepare to do some decisions if he doesn't wake up soon. But I can't, not anymore."

Sherlock looked at her.

"What are you saying?"

"That I want to give the rights to make those decisions to you, permanently."

Sherlock looked buzzled. "But I'm not his…"

"You are his family, more than anyone else, including me." Harriet interrupted him, watching him very closely. They haven't met many times and always when they had, something about Sherlock's manners toward John make her uneasy. She just couldn't figure it out. And somehow she was sure that nether did John or Sherlock. "I know that you are not partners in that way, although this would be easier if you were. I know John is straight as wall. But after Mary, I don't think he never would fall love in anyone. She was just too perfect to him. And then you came back and dragged him out in the world again. You know that he would never leave you. And you, I don't believe that you can survive without him. What ever it's, it's more than love or friendship. You two are stick together forever. You'll be there… when he's an old man. Isn't it right that these decisions are you to make?"

Sherlock's eyes softened and he smiled. "Yes."

"Then I go and make some papers us to sign. I think I saw your brother there."

Before Harriet walked out she looked back and saw how Sherlock reached his hand to John and heard him whisper.

"Just promise John. One more miracle. Do – not – die."

* * *

**Not sure if I'll leave this here or will there be more?**


	7. Waking

"_I do not give up!"_

"_Sherlock, you have to understand, it had been over two weeks. He's not going to wake."_

Voices.

Too loud voices.

John wanted them to shut up.

He wanted to reach out and yell them to _just shut up!_

But he couldn't move. He felt heavy.

"_He's fighter, he will wake up."_

Sherlock?

What was going on?

Why he sounded so desperate?

But he drifted away.

#

"_You can go home tomorrow."_

"_I'm not going to leave him here."_

"_You can't..."_

"_I'm his next of kin. I can be here."_

Sherlock?

He wanted to turn his head.

He wanted to open his eyes.

But he couldn't move.

He couldn't…

#

"_How long before he…"_

"_Not long. He knows that he have to make the decision soon. This can't go on more longer. I just hope…"_

"_What?"_

"_That he is right. That John would wake up."_

"_If so, he had to wake soon."_

Wake up?

But he was awake.

Wasn't he?

#

"_One miracle John. One miracle. Please…"_

Sherlock…

Was he holding his hand?

"_Stay with me. I haven't showed you that small house in Sussex yet. I think I want to live there for a while. You can come with me. I think… Bees. I think that the acquisition of which you were talking about the bees once. Do you remember? You suggested something that I would get those… John. Just... You'd like that place. You really do. We would be quite and peace for once. You to recover properly. But… You have to wake up first. Can you do that to me? One more miracle John and I never ask anything from you."_

"Don... ma… p…mi...s ca…. keep."

Silence.

John opened his eyes.

Sherlock, holding his hand, watching him and smiling like lunatic.

And then the silence was over.

**Hmm, maybe one more?**


	8. the medic

The older woman let him inside.

"He's upstairs. Just go in. Mycroft is there too. Say to John that I'm back tomorrow." Then she was gone.

_Mycroft?_

Oh, the boss.

"Sir." Jack greeted his boss who was already leaving.

"Good work." The Iceman only said when he passed Jack.

"Tea?" John asked, smiling to his old comrade who felt himself awkward standing middle of the small living room.

"No, thanks. I just wanted to see you myself. You really pulled out one kind of miracle John. You know that?"

"So everyone says." John shrugged and offered his hand. "Thanks Jack. If you not there…"

Jack grabbed the hand and John pulled him on hug. "Thank you." John whispered.

They sit, and Jack studied John. He looked healthy, like anything had ever happened to him. They drifted to talk about some old common friends but after an hour they were interrupted by man who just stormed inside.

"Who is this?" The man watched down his nose Jack who rose.

"This is Jack McLou, the man who saved my life." John said calmly, ignoring Sherlock's attitude toward his guest. Sherlock stepped closer and Jack felt that he should step back but he just couldn't. The taller man's eyes searched him, like he was reading everything about his life and then he just smiled.

"Thank you. I don't know what I would do without my blogger. Thank you." Then he just turned his back on Jack and rushed out of the room.

"Sherlock?" Jack asked, confused what a hell had just happened. John seemed to swallow his laugh.

"Oh yes. And you really are honoured today."

"Why so?"

"He thanked you. Twice."

Jack just couldn't but ask.

"So, Sherlock and you…?"

John's cup stopped on his lips, his eyes distant. "No. And maybe… yes. Some really odd way."

"Sorry?"

John lowered his cup and got up same time that Sherlock was back, and Jack was sure that the man didn't even notice his presence, searching something.

"Hurry up will you, we really have to go. Lestrade send the address. Triple murder! Can you believe it? Christmas, it's Christmas John!"

And again he was gone.

"Have to go." John sighed and grabbed his jacket. Jack followed him down the stairs, where the taxi and Sherlock already waited John.

"I call you when it's calm again." John promised and Jack nodded watching how Sherlock let the smaller man go first in. But before the blond hair disappeared John looked him once more. "Own you one!"

"No you don't!" Jack waved his hand to goodbye. Sherlock watched him. "Maybe he not, but I do. Call if you need anything. Anything at all."

And then they were gone and Jack was left to stand on the street, watching after the receding taxi.

**Sequel, someone asked. Alright, if you give me some good idea, then yes. More whump? Sure, there will be if I ever write more. If not sequel, something else. Maybe about Mary and John' accident. Let me know if you come up some ideas. I try complete my another Sherlock story today too.**

**Thank you everyone from reviews and alerts and so, thanks.**


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